antihesychastic
by obedient-child
Summary: An old biography/ story i did for an old character of mine. Involves vague bullying, abuse and death. trigger warning! Sorry if the categorization isn't right, I couldn't find any category for original characters.


This was just a lame old thing I wrote, and was supposed to be the biography of one of my original characters named Alecx. I wanted to do somethin with it, soo here you go! I'm sorry I haven't been as active as I should have, but I've been quite distracted by school and boyfriends to pay any attention to my online life. I'll try and update my other stories when I can.

tigger warning you guys! sorry for any grammar mistakes!

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_**antihesychastic**_

_to be very loud and disruptive; not silent_

Alecx never was much of a talker when he was alive. Barely ever said a word, the poor boy. Lots of kids would tease him for it, call him names and beat him up in the dirty old boy's bathroom after class. But he never told, he never said a word. He never had to explain himself when he came home three hours late with a bleeding lip and a bruised nose, mostly because he was never asked about it.

You can imagine how much this worried the teachers and principles so they hooked him up with a therapist. She was a very nice lady, Alecx noted; always had her hair done up and had too much makeup on but she was still pretty. He hated it when she smiled, it made him frown. Her smile was also fake (like her personality), as though she didn't actually care for whatever problems may be possessing this emotionally disturbed boy. But she smiled anyway, just as long as her purse was stuffed with cash. She reminded him of his mom. And still he refused to talk.

The troubled teachers and assistants where still unanswered, he still had bruises and cuts and scrapes that loomed over his pale skin, still bared those painful gifts and brought them everyday to school. After a while the teachers realized that it actually wasn't the bullies anymore whom were hurting him, but instead someone else- someone much much bigger than he was. This newly found knowledge was causing quite an uproar amongst his teachers, yet they kept quiet just in case if they were simply overreacting. It wasn't until he arrived with a broken leg and rope burns that they decided to call the police.

The police did all they could, interviewed his parents whom got all dressed up and put on bright smiles and over-dramatized horrified faces when they were told the news that their precious little baby had been being abused this whole time _oh no_! They talked and talked and discussed better plans for them to get more involved with their son and prevent future bullying. They gave their little son a kiss and walked home holding hands, but Alecx sighed because he knew it was all for show. Once they got home his mother washed her hands off with much haste, as if her beloved son's touch was that of a disgusting demon. His father chugged a beer, then another and another. Young Alecx tried to tell his dad, now becoming intoxicated; that he should maybe probably slow down just a little with the drinking 'cuz he doesn't want his daddy to throw up- But his soft words of precaution where cut off by a angered yell, and a thrown bottle. "I thought I told you to shut the fuck up." Was all he got in response, and left the room. Alecx then checked up on his mother, whom was still trying to get the disgusting feeling of her child off her arms and hands from when she had to hug him and pat him for the Policeman's amusement. He asked her shyly if she needed some more soap, but got the same reply as he did from his father. "I thought I told you to shut the fuck up!".

This was his life, Alecx thought as he stood in the hallway, listening to the loud rush of water from the sink and the static of the TV and the clinking of bottles. This was like every other night for him. He was sick of it. He wanted to go away away away, but running away would only make things worse and speaking up against them had no effect. Perhaps he could...Just maybe-

Suicide crossed his mind many times, but every time he attempted it he chickened out. Oh how his heart wished for release, for relief yet god would not grant him such luxuries.

But soon he didn't need to worry about killing himself, for his beloved parents where becoming worried. His mother's small amount of friends where questioning her, saying her son was nothing but trouble_ tsk tsk tsk_. His father got the same responses, and both parents decided that their son was doing nothing but give their family a bad name. So, they killed him. Made it look like it was an accident, even went to the trouble of crying at his funeral! Now released from the terrible claws of his abusive parents, he haunts around people and cries and sobs and yells and shouts and screams all the words he could never grant escape from his mouth before.


End file.
